(Author Note: Yesterday I posted, on a popular social media marketplace, the sale of my old diploma frame. I was surprised at one of the comments from someone I've never met, who decided that I must be a fool to have paid so much for the frame in the first place, and implied that I must be vain to ever care about the type of frame it was in. Dear commenter, this post is for you.)

The year was 1976 and my mother found herself unexpectedly divorced, raising four children on $2.50 an hour. Women didn’t usually go to college back then, and my mom had stayed home with my brothers and I up until that time. Suddenly, she found herself figuring out how to pay the bills. Adding a night job to the mix, she left the house at 6:30am and didn’t finish working until 8:15 every night and worked half a day on Saturday. She was endlessly exhausted. We used to wait until she sat down on the couch at night to ask for permission to do things we thought she might say no to, because it never failed that she’d fall immediately asleep and would say yes to just about anything.
 
As my mother’s only daughter, she wanted me to be more prepared for the future than she had been. She expected me to go to college and reminded me that I could do hard things. She saved her own money to help me go. I was one of the beneficiaries of those long, long days. When I turned 18, I headed to Brigham Young University (BYU) to major in music education. I loved music. I loved school. And I loved my mom.
 
However, as often happens, I got my M.R.S. degree before my B.A., and my husband received a job offer in Japan that was too good to pass up. Just before my last year of school, we pulled up stakes and flew half way around the world to live in a shoe box of an apartment that was filled with adventure. That year our first daughter was born, and suddenly, my mother’s dream of me graduating from college seemed to be pushed into the East River with cement blocks on its feet.
 
Soon, more than a decade had passed, and I was chasing four rambunctious kids around the house and loving (most) every minute. But I never could forget that voice in my head reminding me of the goal I never finished. I still wanted to graduate from college. I began taking “online” classes one-by-one, which was a bit more futile in the 90s, and difficult to fit in during nap times and carpools. Finally, when my youngest entered the first grade, I made my way back to the BYU campus to finish what I had started almost 20 years before.
 
It took me two more years to finish what originally would have been one. I found that I still loved learning! I still loved BYU! And I still loved my mom! I don’t know who was more proud when I finally graduated 21 years after I started, my mother or me. I was the first woman on either side of my family to graduate from college. And when I graduated, I bought a beautiful frame that was far too expensive, and would never be seen by a single soul except myself, my husband, and my children who passed in and out of our family office. But I hung it right over my desk where I could always be reminded that I can do hard things.
 
The next several years were filled with teaching Jr. High music classes, and raising those four beautiful kids. I loved it all. Soon, I found that life never does stop giving you opportunities to grow. As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse (CSA), I began working with the state legislature, and survivor groups, to pass 10 significant pieces of legislation to give a voice to survivors, keep molesters out of our schools, and ensure that there would be less victims in the future. It was rewarding and challenging work. People started coming to me with their stories and it became clear that I had an opportunity to help others who suffered from the same shame and insecurity that I had felt for so long. I found myself wanting them to know that they can do hard things.
 
At first, I thought the answer was in becoming a coach. I joined an amazing team and began helping businesses develop their people, and coaching individuals to reach their goals. But it didn’t take long for me to realize where my passion really was: helping people recognize and overcome the lies they have believed for a lifetime that were holding them back; in helping people realizing their worth, finding peace in themselves and their relationships. And that is not the job of a coach. That is the job of a therapist.
 
I thought my school days were behind me. But I realized that the path I wanted to follow would require another sacrifice of time, money, and energy (oh…and did I mention time?!?). I have chosen to become a marriage and family therapist, and become a more effective resource for those who have suffered from so much pain and trauma in their life. I want to help others find peace.
 
I’m now specializing in trauma, and seeing therapy clients in Sandy, and I’m grateful that my mother taught me that I can do hard things. The old fancy frame will find a new home as I place the old diploma in a more simple frame that will match an additional diploma, soon on its way. They will both take their place in my home office, where they will always be in my own line of sight, so that I can always remember what my mom always believed, that I can do hard things.

I don’t remember sneaking food until I was 8 years old…the year my parents divorced. Mom had taken on a full-time job, and went from teaching a few piano students a week to over 40. When she got home from her day job, she had to teach piano students into the night, and I would usually hang out in the basement, watching t.v. and supposedly doing homework until she finished.

I still remember keeping a large spoon in the laundry room where the freezer was kept so that I could take a large mouthful of whatever ice cream was calling my name at the moment, quickly returning the spoon to it’s hiding place. The sugary sweetness seemed a temporary reprieve from the anxiety I now felt regularly, though I didn’t understand why. I’d swallow the creamy goodness before anyone could discover my deceit, telling myself it was the last spoonful. But it never was “the last one.” I was ashamed of myself and didn’t know why I just didn’t seem to be able to stop.

That habit didn’t stop for decades. When anxiety became intense, I found myself secretly turning to my sugary cravings for distraction. I had no idea through those years that within that habit were two problems: I was aware that I needed to stop eating so much food. I feared being overweight, and dieted constantly to try to mitigate the damage I was doing to my body. What I didn’t realize was that the very act of sneaking was also damaging my soul.

In the process of finding peace with food, sneaking was one of the first things that had to go. As Geneen Roth says in her post Confessions of a Food Sneak, “Sneaking food perpetuates the belief that who you really are is unlovable, too intense, and must be hidden. Being sneaky about your feelings means not telling the truth. If you sneak food, chances are you tell other lies.” She couldn’t have been more accurate!
It wasn’t just food I was sneaking all of those years. It was my feelings. My thoughts. I constantly monitored the outside world to determine what words were safe to say, what thoughts were safe to think. If I ever dared to be myself for a moment and got a negative reaction, I recoiled from myself and tried harder to be what others thought I should be.
It should be no surprise then, that giving up the habit of sneaking food also meant giving up the sneakiness of hiding myself. I had to learn that not only was it OK to eat a brownie if I felt like it…in front of the whole world…it was also OK to have my own unique thoughts and opinions, whether it made others upset or not. Becoming transparent has been a process of learning to value myself…not just my own food preferences, but also my own thoughts, feelings, and needs.
As I started to claim my right to eat in front of others, it was just a matter of time before I started to realize that I didn’t always want brownies for lunch. I started to develop greater faith in myself. I am not an insatiable monster. Most of the time, I actually don’t want to keep eating when I’m full. Thus, it is usually quite easy to stop. There is room for progress, but my faith in myself continues to grow.
As I started to speak my truths to whoever needed to hear them, I started to realize that they were important for others to hear, even when they would be far more comfortable if I simply parroted their own minds back to them. I started to own my own truths, and allow them to own theirs. My self-esteem started to recover. The need to binge decreased with my willingness to speak my truth, and I literally stopped eating my own words.
The root of the word transparency is the Latin word transparentem, which means “see light through.” When I lived in a world of sneakiness, I felt surrounded by darkness. Becoming transparent has set my soul free and filled it with large amounts of light. Of my 10 Commandments that have become the guiding stars of my personal life, maybe nothing has been more life-changing than Commandment #2: Be Transparent.

I’m lying in bed in the middle of the afternoon for a much-needed nap after a 6-hour night’s sleep. Some people, like my husband, can function quite well for days at a time on 6 hours of sleep. I, however, have never been one of them. Anything less than 7 hours leaves me feeling as if I’ve just come down with the flu. So once I’ve finished my morning responsibilities, I lay down to catch a few z’s. Just as I start to drift off, I hear someone coming into the house. Like a jack rabbit, I’m standing next to my bed, fixing my hair, and look like I was simply coming into the bedroom to dutifully put something away.

I’m a grown adult who certainly knows when she needs a nap. I’m not a lazy person, in fact, I work quite hard. So why would I feel so urgently to not appear sleeping? The truth is, I have always been too worried about what other people think.
 
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a pleaser. Desperate for the approval of others, I tried to be what everyone else wanted me to be. From turning my right foot out when I walk to be “just like dad”, to playing Barbies when it bored me to tears, I spent much of my time hoping that if I could just mold myself into what everyone else wanted me to be, I would finally be “enough”. Good enough, lovable enough, smart enough, or pretty enough. And I didn’t outgrow it. That’s why in her book, “The Happiness Project”, Gretchen Rubin shared that one of her foundational principles is to “Be Gretchen” it resonated so powerfully for me.
 
Not surprisingly, throughout my life I also had an intense level of anxiety. I used to think it was simply inherited and there was nothing I could do about it. I have since come to realize that most of my anxiety stems from an intense need to be what other people want me to be. Believing that I could chameleon myself into what would make others happy was an impossible task. And further believing that their love and acceptance of me depended upon my chameleon-like abilities added immense pressure. And finally, believing that my ultimate worth dependent on the love and acceptance of others was the nail in the coffin that sent me reeling in a never-ending spiral of anxiety.
 
The answer for me would quickly become my first personal commandment: Be Becky.
 
Do I feel the need to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon? Then I should take one. Do I want to sing and be silly in the grocery store with my kids? Then it’s time to sing away! Do I want to eat a brownie for lunch, wear white after Labor Day, and use too many exclamation points in my emails? Then I may have to ignore the judgy stares, hold my head up high, and decide that liking myself is far more important than whether or not others like me.

I recently listened to Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project, a wonderful book that follows the author through a year of resolutions, each specifically designed to increase her overall happiness. From the moment I read the title, I knew it was something I had to listen to, and I downloaded it immediately. Each month, Gretchen set a handful of resolutions in a specific area she wanted to focus on that month, and added more to the list as the year progressed.
 
I enjoyed her monthly progress, but one of my favorite parts of the book was something she shared near the beginning, which she called her 12 Commandments. These were basically 12 truths that she had learned throughout her life that guided her behavior and helped her make decisions that would help lead her to greater happiness.  I began thinking to myself, what are my commandments? What are the non-changing truths that help to bring about a life of happiness and peace?
 
As I began to write, I discovered that I did, in fact, have several guiding truths about life that I ascribe to. I also found that I could not word them any better than Gretchen already had. Therefore, I give her full credit for several on this list, though the experiences that have taught me these truths are entirely my own.
 
I settled on 10 commandments for the time being. There is no magic to the number 10, though it was good enough for God, and I think He is a pretty good role model to follow. I also expect that over time, this list will alter and grow, or change shape entirely, for that is the nature of lists. I am not the same person I was one month ago, and I am hopeful that next month, life will illuminate more truths for me to capture.
 
For today, my 10 Commandments are:
1.Be Becky.
2.Be transparent.
3.Heed all engine warning lights.
4.Give Your Lemons to the Great Lemonade Maker.
5.Act the way you want to feel.
6.Preserve personal peace.
7.Be a connector.
8.Live in the now.
9.Show proofs of love.
10.Always, “yes, and….” Never, “no, but….”
 
Over the next 10 weeks, I will share with you what these 10 Commandments mean to me. For this week, I challenge you to share with me, what are your personal commandments? What are some of the things that you know to be 100% true, that you use to guide you through the never-ending threats to your peace? What are your 10 Commandments of Happiness?

Some people love puzzles. It calms them as they search for just the right home for a small piece of paperboard, specially cut into interlocking pieces. There is something satisfying about that moment when your eyes lock onto a potential hole, your hands turn the homeless piece here and there and then suddenly, everything aligns and your previously lonely piece finally belongs perfectly.
 
If you’re like me, you might rely on the box-face to help you know what the puzzle is supposed to look like. Propped in front of me like a GPS map, I am constantly comparing colors, shapes, and sizes. I know what the end result is supposed to look like, and I work to conform my work to the vision that has been created for me.
 
Throughout our lives, we are constantly searching for how the various pieces of our selves fit into the great plan that has been set before us…the overall vision for how our life is supposed to look if we are to be successful…if we are to be happy. From the beginning, that picture that we are striving to recreate we often created from well-meaning parents, teachers, friends, and society itself. And from as early as we can remember, we have been working build that vision, piece-by-piece. But is the picture on the box really the image we want to conform to?
 
Sometimes, God hands us a new piece. It doesn’t usually take long to realize that this particular piece doesn’t seem to fit the picture of our lives that we have always held. The colors are more vibrant. The shapes are unknown to us. But the pictures captures our heart and takes our breath away. Could our lives really look like THIS?
 
It is at this point that many strive to take this God-given piece and fit it into the current constructs of their lives. “I can take this new piece and make it fit into my current picture.” But try as you might, the two visions will never merge. When God hands us a new vision for our lives, it often requires a mighty change.

It’s a simple piece of equipment that the exercise physiologist gave my husband to strengthen his core and support his overly-aged back. Knowing my core was a bit on the flabby side, I decided to join him on his journey. Using the pressure monitor, we performed various core strengthening exercises that used muscles we didn’t know we had.
The instructions stated that we were not to move on to the next exercise until we had mastered doing the previous one with precise form. In only a few days we mastered exercise #1 and moved on to #2. Ken quickly progressed through exercises #3 and returned for more instruction, while I continued to feel like a newborn giraffe learning to walk.
When he arrived home, he began showing me the next exercises in my future, when suddenly I found myself feeling angry, hopeless, and wanting to give up.  “What the heck is going on?” I thought to myself. “There’s nothing wrong. Why am I feeling this way?” Within just a few short minutes, I felt ready to throw in the towel. “I’ll never get any better. I’m doomed to be fat and out-of-shape. Why even bother?” Luckily for me, I am well-rehearsed in A-B-C-D journaling so I grabbed my handy notebook and scriptures, and went out to the living room to process my emotions.
It didn’t take long to recognize some of the old thought distortions that had taken over my mind…old beliefs that I thought I had banished for good. As I recognized and challenged those old beliefs once again, I could see how I was comparing myself and my progress to someone else. I was expecting years of inactivity and poor choices to be reversed in a matter of days…or at least weeks!
Clearly seeing my distorted beliefs, I was now free to replace them once again with the truth: I am not competing with anyone else. Consistency compounds. Enjoy the journey! Already, I was feeling at peace once again.
Then I opened my scriptures. Would you be surprised if I told you that there on the page was a direct message from my Heavenly Father? Would you be even more surprised if I told you that He sent that message through His servant, Isaiah?
“Awake, awake, put on thy strength…Put on thy beautiful garments…for henceforth there shall no more come into thee the uncircumcised and the unclean. Shake thyself from the dust; arise, sit down…loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion.”
I was reminded once again that we are all daughters and sons of God. That makes us royalty. With the Lord, we are strong, even when we feel weak. Sometimes we find ourselves lying in the dust, chains about our neck, captive to the will of the flesh or the beliefs of the world.
Today is the perfect time to awake…to not allow unclean thoughts and beliefs to enter our minds any longer. It is time to stand up, shake off the dust, break the chains that have bound us, and take our place as rightful heirs to the blessings of God.
Because you’re human, I know that you have distorted beliefs about yourself. I know there are times when you believe you aren’t worth it…that you will never succeed…that all is hopeless. We all do. My hope for you is that you will learn how to recognize, challenge, and replace those thoughts. Awake! Don’t allow lies into your head any longer. Arise! Don’t wallow in the dust like captives to the beliefs of the world.  You are a child of God. Come. Arise, and take your proper place.

 Oftentimes, people ask me how I got into public speaking and coaching. It’s a hard question to answer. The short answer is, I realized that there are many out there who need to know they are not alone, their worth has never changed, and they can come through their challenges having greater peace and faith than they ever thought possible. So I shared.
 
The things I have learned on this journey have shaped why and how I see the world, and if they can help make the journey of others more peaceful, why wouldn’t I share? Some of these lessons include: the importance to teach our children leadership skills, self-confidence, how to speak up for your needs, how to work through anxiety, and how to find peace with food, just to name a few. I’ve also learned that while our challenges are all different, the lessons we need to learn are very often the same. That’s how speaking and coaching became my passion.
 
Today, I share with you a link to a podcast interview I did this past week where I was asked to share my story of overcoming childhood sexual abuse.  Given that at least 1 in 10 children are sexually abused before reaching the age of 18, I imagine that it might be of help to you, whether you were a victim, or if it has impacted someone you love.  Please feel free to share with any whom you think would benefit.
 
As always, feel free to reach out to me if I can ever be of service to you.

​Listen to the podcast HERE. 
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Hi Friends! 
I hope you are holding up OK during all of this Coronavirus craziness! I just wanted to share with you how I strive to hear Him during these challenging times. I hope it helps. 
​Love, Becky Ivory